Her Surrogate Selves
by LostBerryQueen
Summary: AU: Rachel Berry is being raised by strict, overbearing Cassandra July. She has a crush on Quinn Fabray who persuades her to audition for a new glee club being run by Ms. Corcoran. Shelby Corcoran is not like anyone Rachel has ever known, and prompts her to question fundamental aspects of her identity.
1. Chapter 1: Blood Omen

**Disclaimer:** I do not own glee or any of it's characters.

 **Chapter 1: Blood Omen**

For as long as Rachel could remember, she had known that her mother, Cassandra July, loved her. It was never the "love" part that Rachel doubted. Her mother told her consistently, every day or more, that she loved her. It was the definition of the word Rachel questioned.

Love, defined by the bible, was patient and kind.

Love, in Buddhism, was something that could defeat hatred.

Love, defined by the first result given by Google is "an intense feeling of deep affection".

If Rachel was grateful for one thing about her mother it was that she was not religious.

Her mother was strict, temperamental, and unpredictable. As a younger child Rachel had loathed her for it. Now she had come to understand that her mother was under a lot of stress as a single parent, and that she was doing the best she could. This didn't, however, prevent her actions from having an effect on Rachel.

Rachel walked through the halls in a daze, trying to transport her brain to a fantasy place after the verbal lashing she had received from her mother last night. She was failing Geometry, and her mother had used up most of her homework time to scream at her about it.

Rachel was thinking of a meadow, draped in sunlight. The sunlight would be warm, comforting, in contrast with the slight dampness of the grass, but together the water and the light would work to heal her, to clear her mind.

On her iPod she listened to West Side Story's "Somewhere".

She saw it a second too late. Her brain was too dazed and drugged off of music and fantasy to react as the book snapped into her face.

Rachel stopped in her tracks, pulling her head back at the pain. The stack of books tumbled to the floor.

"I'm so sorry!" Rachel said. She stooped to pick up the books without looking at the person she had run into.

She handed the books back to the large smooth hands, only making eye contact with the women's shoulder, anxious and embarrassed as she was. The women had only been carrying two books, and Rachel had gathered them up before the women could do more than bend at the waist.

"Are you okay?" The women said. "Look at me."

The command seemed to pull Rachel's eyes up to the women's face as if her head were on a string that was being pulled in the women's direction. When Rachel met the women's eyes it was all she could do not to gasp. She sucked in air and held her breath. Her eyes were warm and familiar. They seemed to hold Rachel tenderly, as if they were strong arms.

 _Or_ , the thought came to Rachel as if it were a breeze passing through her ears, _a soft white hospital pillow._

"You have blood on your face," The women's words cut through the moment without fully breaking it's effects.

"I do?" Rachel brought a finger up to the sting on her cheek. It came away moist. "Sorry," Rachel said again before lurching forward and brushing past the women, heading for the nearest bathroom.

Sure enough, there was blood on her face, a thin sharp line, like a papercut. Rachel took a paper towel, wet it in the sink, and started dabbing at it.

Rachel saw Quinn approaching her in the mirror. She felt her body tense.

"Rachel, are you okay?" Quinn asked.

"Yeah, I'm just such a klutz," Rachel said with a little laugh, her voice deliberately casual. She was always happy and surprised when her voice came out the right way around Quinn. She always took care to make it sound at it's best when Quinn was in earshot, even just for speaking. Quinn was very musical, and had the most beautiful of voices. "I ran into a teacher in the hall, knocked all of the books out of their hands, and I guess I cut my face on their book too."

"I'm not surprised Berry," Quinn said, but her voice was affectionate. "Hey, you were one of the people who auditioned for Mr. Schue's glee club right?"

"Yeah," Rachel said in a quieter voice. "But I didn't get in."

"I didn't get in either." Quinn stated matter-of-factly. "But he wanted me to tell you, and the other people who didn't get in that the choir teacher, Ms. Corcoran, is starting her own, rival glee club."

Rachel liked the way that Quinn said 'you' the way she seemed to pause over the word, as if in her mind, Rachel was separated from all of the other people.

"Apparently she's going to whip our butts into shape and make us even better than Mr. Schue's club in less than a week."

"Oh really?" Rachel raised her eyebrows. It was undeniably sexy to hear Quinn use the word 'butts' even though Quinn didn't usually talk that way.

"Hey, his words not mine. Well, technically her words I guess. Mr. Schue seemed doubtful. But he doesn't want us to stop doing music just because we didn't make it into his club. Auditions are this friday. Come if you want, I'll be there."

"Okay. When? And where?"

"3:30, sharp. In the choir room. Don't be late..." Quinn started walking out of the bathroom, sending Rachel her smile over her shoulder.

Rachel let out a sigh when Quinn was gone. Auditioning for anything was NOT her favorite thing to do. But she would do almost anything for a chance to spend more time with Quinn.

~R~Q~R~

On Friday, Kurt walked with Rachel to the choir room for moral support. The whole week, he had been trying his hardest not to gloat about the fact that he had made it into Mr. Schue's prestigious glee club, and Rachel hadn't. He was trying, but it was hard. He couldn't just completely not mention the club that was the biggest part of his day around his best friend. Rachel appreciated his efforts.

"Ugh, I'm exhausted," Kurt told Rachel as they walked. "I swear, if Mr. Schue keeps drilling us this hard, my vocal cords will be _broken_ by next week."

"Well, at least you get to sing." Rachel said.

Kurt noticed her tone and expression. "Don't worry, Rachel," He said, apologetically, "I'm sure you'll get in, then we'll both be toast."

Rachel forced a small smile. They were nearing the choir room and her nerves were rising like a swarm of disturbed dust bunnies in a neglected garage. "Wish me luck?"

"Good luck, Rachel. But I know you don't need it."

Rachel gave Kurt a broad smile, which was hindered by her nerves. She found that forcing herself to smile through them, even if it was hard to get the muscles in her face to cooperate -helped calmed them down.

Rachel opened the door. Everyone was already seated in the chairs on the risers. She was late. People turned to look at her. Quinn smiled and mouthed "hi," red lips moving around gleaming white teeth.

Rachel glanced instinctively toward the center of the room and froze. She recognized the women sitting with her chair pulled out and in front of her desk –with no barriers, her body exuded confidence. What she didn't understand, is why the sight of the women made her feel terrified, while simultaneously comforted in a way that she had never experienced before, in a way she couldn't describe.

Ms. Corcoran was the women who Rachel had ran into on _that_ day. Her books had drawn blood onto Rachel's face. Perhaps the blood had left a mark on the pages as well.

 **Author's Note: Hello readers! If you are new to my works, I hope you liked what you just read and feel free to leave a review. If you are someone who has read She Brings Her Home or any of my other works I hope you liked this and feel free to leave a review as well. I know it's not exactly a sequel to She Brings Her Home, but the idea for this story is very similar to the ideas in that story and I am looking forward to exploring it farther.**


	2. Chapter 2: A Victimized Crime

**Chapter Two: A Victimized Crime**

Rachel stood, stuck, like a fly in a web. The spider spoke.

"Welcome. What's your name?"

The high note of the last vowel hung in the air, a question.

Rachel shuffled, attempting to break the invisible strands. "Rachel. Berry." Her voice rang in the room, resounding against the walls at her efforts.

"Take a seat."

Rachel followed Ms. Corcoran's gaze and spotted the empty chair in the center of the risers. There were other empty chairs, but obediently, Rachel took this one. There was power in her gaze, an authority that could do this much, just for starters.

Rachel felt relief at the solid surface beneath her, but after she sat down her legs immediately began to shake. Rachel looked down at them in horror, then dug her toenails into the bottom of her shoes. Only once had she shaken like this –and she had been in first grade. Her mother had come to her school play, and complained excessively during the car ride to drop Rachel off –that the play was stupid and pointless and Rachel should have been the lead.

Ms. Corcoran was speaking. Rehearsals, expectations, BE ON TIME.

Rachel dug the nail of her forefinger into her thumb. Her heart was beating and she needed to figure out how to breathe.

She had done countless auditions. Cassandra made her practice them in the living room, circling her as she recited them, shouting when Rachel made a mistake "stop!" and then Rachel had to start all over again...

 _Why am I here, why am I here, again agian again, not again._ Rachel resisted the temptation to close her eyes. Rachel looked at Ms. Corcoran, glanced at the whiteboard behind her head, steadied herself by pressing her eyes to it, then looked back at Ms. Corcoran. Her mother's first rule at an audition was to never show fear.

 _Quinn,_ Rachel realized, that's why she was here, to impress Quinn. Rachel again had to resist the temptation to close her eyes. She was going to rely on her emergency audition to get her through this. Her mother always told her to have an emergency audition, but to Rachel's relief she told her not to practice her emergency audition in front of her, or anyone else. It was supposed to be a secret, something Rachel practiced on her own, and kept in the back of her mind. Secret's had power. Secret's could give the greatest comfort.

"Okay. I'm going to go around the room, in the order that you're seated, and when I call your name, come to the front of the room and sing the song you have prepared. If you don't have a song, that's fine, I'll get back to you later. I have some songs picked out, and I can play them while you sing, and I'll give you about ten to twenty minutes to learn them before you come back here and perform."

Waiting, waiting was always the worst part. The voices, of the auditionees, good or bad, sharp or flat or on key, bang and rang against Rachel's head like a dumbbell being thrown against a wall.

Rachel, was before Quinn.

Rachel rose when her name was called. Her legs started shaking more prominently. Rachel looked at the ground -this was so embarrassing- it had never happened to her at an audition before.

"Rachel, are you okay? Do you need a moment?"

 _I'm fine,_ Rachel tried to say, but instead her mouth opened and no sound came out. What the hell was going on!? Rachel looked at Ms. Corcoran helplessly. How was she supposed to sing if she couldn't even talk?

Rachel shook her head and staggered to the stage. She stood there, like a lone survivor of the Holocaust, looking up at the risers like the next hill of her life she had to climb. She closed her eyes. She wasn't here. She was in her room. She was smiling, a happy small smile, only weighed down slightly by resentment. _This was her secret audition._ Though if it were up to her, she would never audition in her life again, she would never sing again.

"Something has changed within me..." Her voice broke on the word 'change'.

Laughter, scattered, muffled, snickers.

Rachel tried again. "Something has changed-"

Rachel felt a hand on her shoulder and jumped. So suddenly that the hand was quickly withdrawn. She opened her eyes and was staring at Ms. Corcoran, her familiar large, magnetic eyes bright through the haze that the air had seemed to have created, the haze that was really inside of her mind.

"Rachel, you seem a little nervous. Why don't you let everyone else go and then you can try again, at the end, with just me?"

Rachel's eyes widened at those last words. Somehow, and she didn't know how, being alone with Ms. Corcoran seemed like it would be the most terrifying thing ever. Rachel suppressed a ripple of frustration. Why wasn't her body working the way it was supposed too? She had done countless auditions, auditions that she had hated doing, auditions that she had been forced into, but she had still done them. Almost flawlessly. Why was her heart betraying her now?

"Alright," Rachel said, overly relieved that she could finally talk again.

Rachel made her way back to her chair. What was Quinn thinking of her? She'd probably just killed any chance she had ever had of ever being her girlfriend. _Well,_ Rachel thought, mentally nudging the corpse of love that could never be, _it's not like I ever really had a chance anyway._

What Quinn and Kurt didn't know, was that she had purposefully botched the audition for Will's club. The only thing that had made her want to do glee was that Quinn had invited her.

~R~Q~R~

Quinn's audition made Rachel self-conscious of her expression, which she struggled to keep politely blank, but it also was the only thing that stilled her. Quinn's voice soared above the risers, and froze Rachel in place, her legs were no longer able to shake as she listened.

Rachel wondered if she would ever be able to do that to Quinn. Sing to her and hypnotize her like a lover. She knew that her own voice was powerful, she knew that it was also (technically) very "good" but she didn't know what effect it would have on Quinn. If she hadn't ruined her audition maybe she would have been able to see. Although Defying Gravity was more of an uplifting song than a romantic one.

Rachel would ask Ms. Corcoran to learn one of the songs she had picked out for the unprepared. Maybe her secret was only bad luck, maybe she needed a new one.


	3. Chapter 3: Towel off the Trigger

**Chapter 3: Towel off the Trigger**

When Rachel stepped into the hallway, it felt as if her lungs were two airbags deploying in her chest. She had planned on staying, she really had. She just...couldn't. She had never felt this way before. As discreetly as she could, she walked down the hallway. She tried to look casual, like she was just going to the bathroom. She could feel the eyes of the unprepared auditionees on her as she walked away, as she abandoned the audition.

She ended up waiting outside of Emma Pillsbury's office. Even though it was the end of the day she was still talking with someone. After thirteen minutes, the door to her office opened and a kid in a wheel chair rolled his way out. Artie waved and greeted her so she greeted him back, though it was common policy among many students to not make eye contact anywhere near the counselors office, not needing to share the unspoken thought: why are you here?

Emma talked to her calmly with her large, worried, emphatic eyes. Rachel managed to calm down, to the point where she wanted to go home, curl up under a blanket and take a nap. She scoffed internally at the thought. Cassandra July would almost never let her do something so 'lazy'. Emma gave her a pamphlet on anxiety and panic attacks.

~R~R~R~

Rachel had P.E seventh period, and she liked to stay late and use the showers in the locker room. It was just an excuse to have a half an hour of peace away from everyone, especially her mother. Rachel sang defying gravity, making sure that she could still hit all of the notes. After last week, hearing herself sing properly, the notes bouncing off the locker room walls, was more calming and relieving than anything else.

Finally she turned off the water and headed back to her locker. She stopped dead.

Quinn Fabray was sitting on the bench. She smiled and clapped lightly, teeth and eyes gleaming. "Is that what you meant to do for the audition?"

"Uh..." Rachel wrapped her towel tighter around herself, looking down as if to make sure that it was actually there.

"You sounded really good," Quinn said sincerely.

"I don't know what happened at the audition...I guess it just, wasn't my day." Rachel shrugged. She moved toward her locker casually, holding her breath as she passed Quinn, trying to pretend that her heart wasn't beating out of her chest at the sight of her.

"You know I bet Ms. Corcoran would let you audition again. Especially if I told her how good your voice is."

Rachel shrugged, _god let my voice sound casual,_ she thought. "You know, it might be better if I just leave it. It wouldn't really be fair to everyone else who didn't get in." Rachel fiddled with her lock, pretending to have forgotten the numbers. She didn't want to change in front of Quinn, she was waiting for her to leave, but of course she also didn't want her to leave...

Quinn leaned against the lockers beside Rachel's. "Having trouble with your combination?"

Rachel looked at her questioningly.

Quinn smiled at her mischievously then laughed, she pushed away from the lockers. "Think about it, okay? Let me know." She turned her back on Rachel and walked away, then looked over her shoulder. "See you, Rachel."

Rachel let out a breath after she heard the door bang behind Quinn. She was almost sure that Quinn had caught her looking at her body when she had looked over her shoulder.

She never knew if Quinn was being serious or not when she flirted with her. Quinn was openly lesbian, and openly single, a rarity at McKinley high school. Quinn was completely unobtainable. Every queer girl, or straight or bisexual guy discreetly had their eye on her.

Rachel was everything that her mother wanted her to be, including a liar. Her mother thought that if she was openly lesbian, it would hurt her chances of making it on Broadway. Rachel thought after she had already attained her career, she could come out, maybe when she was close to retirement or something.

That didn't mean she couldn't date, it just mean that Cassandra July couldn't find out.

Rachel didn't see how it could be possible that Quinn liked her in that way. She wasn't the confident strong women that everyone day dreamed about. She was a wreck. Maybe she did hide it, maybe, but she felt like the worst part of her had somehow slipped out at that audition, the part of her she hadn't fully realized existed.

Emma had told her that something in the room had probably triggered her, reminded her of a traumatic experience.

Rachel hung the towel over the bench nearest her, feeling the cold air touch the moisture remaining on her skin. She pulled her jeans on shakily.

The only memory that made her feel close to the feeling that she had had during the audition was the memory of the audition itself. Ms. Corcoran. For some reason she was a trigger, for some reason she sent her brain into an overdrive of primal fear, primal anxiety. Rachel had no clue why, and was only mildly interested in finding out. The only way to avoid having another panic attack, seemed to be to avoid Ms. Corcoran.

Rachel hugged her math textbook to her chest. It would fit in her backpack, but it was heavy, and it was more comfortable to distribute the weight more evenly. Plus she really just wanted something to hold onto right now. She walked home, not minding that she had missed the bus.


	4. Chapter 4: Cover Friends

**Chapter 4: Cover Friends**

"Hey, Davie!" The voice was distant, but rang with power down the hallway, effectively pulling Rachel out of the haze of sleep.

"Shit," Rachel sat up cursing, a steady stream under her breath as she heard the footsteps approaching her door. She had closed herself in her room, telling her mom she was studying, but somewhere amongst the midst of the cluelessness of the swirling math problems in her textbook, her limbs had grown heavy, and she had climbed into her bed for a nap.

Her mom only called her 'Davie' when she had been drinking.

She didn't have time to change out of her pajamas, but maybe she could still look convincing enough, if she was sitting in front of her open textbook. Rachel pulled the blankets off of her, got out of bed, and was two steps away from her desk when her mom opened the door.

"Ah, ah, ah!"

Rachel froze. Her mom's stage voice boomed through the room, carrying with it the heavy scent of beer.

"You're caught!" She said dramatically. "Little miss Davie Schwimmer...come on, I have some laundry for your lazy ass to fold."

Rachel breathed a sigh of relief when Cassandra turned her back to her. It wasn't that bad, at least she wasn't in for a lecture.

"You know I bet if you didn't sleep the day away, you would have a better grade in geometry," Cassandra began.

 _Oh no,_ Rachel thought. _I've spoken too soon._

Resigned to the headache she would soon be facing, Rachel followed her mother to the laundry room.

~R~R~R~

Rachel yawned over her sandwich, her thoughts pleasantly hazy. She was at that point of tiredness, where she felt giddy, like there was a cloud of butterflies swarming her, clouding her vision, yet making her feel good whilst they did so.

"You okay, Rachel?" Mercedes asked, a frown in place.

"What? Yeah, I'm fine," Rachel said. "Just tired."

"Yeah, we've noticed," Kurt said. "You haven't talked about Quinn yet for all of lunch."

Rachel blushed. "Shush, I don't want the whole universe to hear you."

Mercedes smirked. "Come on, Rachel, it's no secret that you've got a thing for her. I mean you do have eyes don't you?"

"Yes, and while it may not be a classified, only between friends secret, it is a secret from her, so if you wouldn't mind..." Rachel's voice trailed away. She had spotted a certain tall, brunette teacher walking across the Cafeteria, headed for the teacher's lounge. She was frowning, as if she was waging a personal war against the flooring, and her heels were clicking rhythmically like drum beats.

Kurt glanced behind himself and saw Ms. Corcoran. "Oh..." He said. "You still upset about the audition?"

"I mean how can I not be?" Rachel said. "What am I supposed to do? I've never freaked out like that before."

"Rachel, you know I read somewhere that everyone has to freak out once," Mercedes siad. "Most people do it when they're a kid, with like, their first audition, but maybe because of your mom and stuff...you just never got a chance to. Maybe you should just look at this as a milestone. Your first freak out audition."

Kurt was nodding. "Agreed. I think this is a really important step for you Rachel, Mercedes is right."

Rachel was glad to have friends that were trying so hard to comfort her, but she still wasn't convinced. "Yeah, but what if I don't only have one freak out audition? What if because of all of those auditions I did flawlessly as a child, I have like, more and more auditions that I screw up, until all the numbers add up and I'm even! What if for every audition I did perfectly then, I have to mess one up now?"

"Honestly, I think you're overthinking this, big time," Mercedes said. "The less you think about your nerves, the less nerves you'll have. So you should just forget about what happened to you."

"Quinn told me that she would try to get Ms. Corcoran to let me audition again." Rachel admitted.

"You should do it!" Kurt said.

"Yeah, do it," Mercedes agreed.

"I know, but the thing is, I still get nervous around her, I don't know what it is. I think she just reminds me of the failed audition, it's like whenever I'm around her I just go into panic mode!"

"Well," Mercedes laughed. "Ms. Corcoran can be pretty scary sometimes. I remember this one time she caught me cheating on a test, I thought she was going to blow out my eardrums!"

Kurt made a face. "Yeah, don't remind me. I was standing right next to you, it was my test you were cheating off of remember? I swear, there are some high notes that I can't even hear anymore because of her."

"And I still don't get intervals," Mercedes said, shaking her head.

Rachel was about to launch herself into an explanation of intervals but she stopped herself. There were more important things to discuss. "If I did get a chance to audition again, I would have to be perfect in order to get in. And I can't be perfect if I can't even breathe when I'm in the same room as her."

"Hmmm," Kurt said. "You know, you know what you should do? You should desensitize yourself to her."

"What?!" Mercedes said. "Like what they do with horses?"

"Yeah! Yeah, like that." Kurt said. "You have to go in there, and just get used to being around her."

"I don't get it, I'm not a horse." Rachel said.

"I think Kurt is operating on the theory that if you slowly allow yourself to be around your fears you'll get used to them and overcome them." Mercedes explained.

"But I don't even have choir anymore." Rachel hadn't taken choir since middle school. "It sucks but remedial math and study hall and shit-"

"You can go to her tutorial!" Kurt interrupted.

"And just sit there? Wouldn't that be a little weird?" Rachel asked.

"We can go with you," Mercedes said. "We have her class, so it can just be like you're hanging out with us. "

"Yeah, Ms. Corcoran loves to just chat with her students," Kurt said. "So you can go to her tutorial even if you don't have work to do."

"What if she tries to talk to me?" Rachel felt helpless, yet hopeful.

"We'll cover for you," Mercedes said. "We'll say you have a soar throat or something."

A smile broke out on Rachel's face. "You guys are seriously the best." She would have stood up and hugged them both if they weren't sitting around a table in the Cafeteria.


	5. Chapter 5: In the Trash

**Chapter 5: In the Trash**

 **Friday, September 12th, 2014**

"If you've already gone you can leave. If you still need to audition wait in the hall for further instructions."

Shelby took a sip of her redbull, and straightened a stapler on her desk. She sat back in her chair, and waited for the students to clear the room.

She already had a stack of music laid out on the piano, knowing that there were bound to be auditionees who were unprepared. She stood and lifted the music up, then crossed the room to the door. When she pushed it open, she could hear the chatter fall silent.

"Alright," she handed the stack to the nearest girl. "Pass these around. You guys can use the practice rooms," she gestured down the hall. "You have," she checked her watch for the time. "Thirty minutes."

She glanced around at the auditionees. The brunette, Rachel, was gone. Maybe she had just went to the bathroom and would be back.

~S~C~S~

 **Tuesday, September 16th, 2014**

Rachel already felt sick before seventh period had even ended. She asked her teacher if she could use the bathroom, then vomited into the toilet bowel.

 _What the fuck is wrong with me?_

She felt buried self-hatred rising in the same way that the food had risen from her stomach. She was nothing, she was everything, all she did was act. Smile for her mother, pretend to love singing, smile with her friends. The problem wasn't that she was hiding herself, the problem was that she didn't _have_ a self. It felt like there was nothing underneath the voice, nothing underneath the charade. At the end of it all, if she wasn't distracting herself, she was alone, because she was alone on the inside.

 _All I have is the pain._

Some people wanted to feel happy, but what was happiness besides an act? Pain was something solid, something sharp, something that meant something.

Rachel felt like she would drown in her own emptiness, be pulled away into it and disappear.

Mercedes and Kurt met her cheerily in the hallway.

"You ready to have another freak out?" Kurt teased.

"Shut up," Mercedes said. "I can tell she's nervous already because she's laughing too much at your jokes."

Rachel looked at Ms. Corcoran's desk as she entered, expecting something to happen. Her legs were already beginning to shake. Rachel dug her thumbnail into one of her fingers.

Ms. Corcoran looked up brightly when she saw them "Hi, Mercedes, Hi Kurt...Rachel, right?"

Rachel nodded.

Kurt and Mercedes stood by her sides like body guards as she found the nearest chair. The three of them sat down in unison.

Ms. Corcoran was surveying Rachel with either interest or skepticism or both. Before she could ask anything, Kurt diverted her attention.

"Have you decided on which songs we're doing for our first concert?"

"Not quite yet," Ms. Corcoran said.

Rachel pulled out her math notebook, trying to steady her hand as she pressed her pen to the graph paper.

"Some of that will be up to you guys," Ms. Corcoran continued, "I was thinking of holding a class vote, though I know that we will sing at least one of the songs we are working on now in class, I will choose another, and I guess the class can choose the third one."

Rachel's blood was pounding in her skull. She had read the same question over twice. Nothing was registering. She decided to move her pen around on her paper, just so she would look like she was doing something. She started to doodle the pattern on the purple headband that Quinn often wore.

She curled her toes in her shoes, _breathe, Rachel, breathe, Rachel_. She was just too close to Ms. Corcoran. She couldn't take it anymore. She stood up.

"What is it?" Mercedes asked.

"I have to...go," Rachel said, not being able to come up with any excuse. "I have to go."

She turned and walked away, heading straight for the bathroom, speed-walking. Kurt and Mercedes burst out of the choir room behind her.

Rachel looked behind her and saw Mercedes jogging toward her, Kurt right behind her, putting out an equal amount of effort to hurry toward her. "You okay, Rachel?" They looked like something out of an action movie, when the heroes have to flee the exploding building.

Rachel didn't make it to the bathroom in time. She vomited into the trash can.

~K~R~M~

 **Friday, September 12th, 2014**

Shelby left the auditionees to their work and went back to her desk. Lifting the lid on her personal computer, she opened a new email.

She began typing.

'Recent circumstances have made me reconsider the morality of the terms of our contract.'

She stopped, her eyes had begun to water. _Damn allergies._ But it wasn't allergies, it wasn't even close to being Spring yet. _I'm allergic to my emotions._

Not being able to write any further, Shelby moved the email to the trash. She shivered. One sentence was a record. It was further than she had ever gotten before on the email she would never send.

It appeared that the majority of the auditionees had formed into two groups. They were all gathered around the pianos, packed into the small practice rooms. They must have conversed with one another and flocked to the few who knew how to play piano.

Ms. Corcoran could see them through the glass doors. One girl, was alone in the third practice room. Ms. Corcoran recognized her from her choir class, she was a small, redheaded freshman who could easily pass for a twelve year-old. She was one of those "avoid people at all costs" types. Ms. Corcoran decided to go to her first.

Mariah looked up from her cellphone sheepishly as Ms. Corcoran entered. "I...was just trying to find the song on my phone," she said. "I don't know how to play piano."

Ms. Corcoran folded her arms. "You haven't figured out how to sing the song yet?"

She shook her head.

"That's okay," Ms. Corcoran said, feeling coldly maternal. "You can go last, I'll teach it to you."

Mariah gave a casual grin, with just visible forced brightness. "Thanks."

Ms. Corcoran subconsciously turned her students into her family. The daughters and sons she might never have.

Ms. Corcoran pushed open the door to one of the crowded practice rooms. "Who wants to go first?"


	6. Chapter 6: Mothers Love From Afar

**Chapter 6: Mothers Love From Afar**

Sitting in the parking lot of Carmel High, Shelby gripped the steering wheel of her car tightly so that her hands wouldn't shake. The car was already in park, brake in place, but she still needed to take the key out. She took a deep breath, and slowly pushed the air out through her lips. She was glad that she had tinted windows. She didn't need any of her students to pass by and see her looking so nervous.

After internally saying a quick prayer, she finally released her grip on the steering wheel and took the key out. She knew once she was walking down those halls it would, for the most part fade. She forced it too. She couldn't afford to lose her composure in her place of work.

Ms. Corcoran set her bag down next to her desk, and waited for her piano class students to file in.

Ms. Corcoran was glad that, piano class was not a class that involved a lot of eye contact. Everyone was looking down at their keyboards. As a result, she had barely met her daughter's eyes. As a result, her daughter had never been able to see anything strange in her stare.

She watched her as discreetly as she could.

The blonde girl in the Cheerios uniform, laughing somewhat innocently as a curly haired boy flirted openly with her. Jesse. He was a talkative student who went out of his way to be noticed by Ms. Corcoran. Making him into one of her distinguished students and talking to him, was as close to her daughter as she could get. She couldn't bear to talk to her, not yet, at least.

She had remembered when she had been casually glancing through her attendance lists before the beginning of the first day of class. Her eyes had nearly bugged out of her head when she had read the name. She had to read it twice. Then, her heart picking up its pace, she tried to convince herself that somehow, it could be some other girl, with the same name as her daughter.

There were no parent nights in high school (something Shelby definitely didn't miss from teaching middle schoolers, back when she first started her career) so Shelby had no way to verify that Brittany's parents were indeed Leroy and Hiram, except, that is, Facebook. She never added any of her students but that didn't mean she couldn't look up one of her students, just this once, and sure enough, Brittany was the daughter of the two men that Shelby had agreed to be a surrogate to.

Jesse was standing in front of her desk.

"Yes?" Ms. Corcoran said, snapping out of her thoughts.

"Brittany missed class on Tuesday, she's missing a copy of music you handed out then."

Ms. Corcoran reached into her desk, swiftly pulled out the copy in question and handed it to him.

"Thank you," he said tucking his arms behind his back and dipping his head—almost bowing.

Ms. Corcoran was used to theatre kids, and was one herself in high school, so this didn't come off as strange to her.

Ms. Corcoran glanced at Jesse as he returned to his seat beside her daughter. So she didn't want to talk to her? But she giggled when Jesse handed her the music, so no it wasn't that. Ms. Corcoran turned away.

It had taken her a while to get used to mentally calling Brittany her daughter. She wasn't even sure if she had a right to mentally call her that. But the thought that she might never have children of her own had thrown her into a state.

It had taken her a while, but she had begun to see the similarities between her and Brittany. Most notably, their shared musical talent. Brittany learned piano extremely quickly, just like Shelby had at her age.

Shelby was not one to succumb to shyness. Thinking of her daughter was the one exception. She felt so full of love that seemed to radiate from the very chamber that had carried that child. She assumed that, had she kept her child, it may have made her feel strong, and protective. Instead, the love turned against her, and made her feel vulnerable.

She had no right to this child. And yet, the curiosity would not go away. It was more than that. Shelby knew. She was alone and without the right questions, she must turn to her own flesh in blood, hoping that somehow, they would carry something that could lead her to where she was meant to be.

~S~B~S~B~

Rachel sat on the toilet, her face in her hands. She hated thinking about all of the germs that were probably crawling off of the seat and all over her skirt right now, but she had been too weak to resist a place to sit in privacy, and the high school environment did not offer many.

She had been losing sleep, listening to the same songs over and over, watching the same YouTube videos, and hearing her mom go off on the same tangents. Her body couldn't take much more of this, and yet, she was still pumped with adrenaline.

She had never faced a problem like Shelby Corcoran before.

If logic and creativity, and energy and acting had saved her in the past, what was she to do when she couldn't even clearly identify what it was she felt towards this woman? It was like she was reading a script, and everyone else's lines were blurred out except her own. She knew what she was supposed to say, but not knowing what anyone else was saying, she had no idea when to say it, or what context the words were meant to be in.

'Shelby, I know you from somewhere.' The script read. 'Shelby, I want to be with you, but I don't know why.'

'Shelby, I'm hurt, please help?'

But what would the response be to her lines? Rachel _didn't_ know Shelby. Why would Shelby owe her help, or anything at all? And how was Rachel to deliver her lines when a language barrier had risen between them. Rachel could not speak in front of Shelby. Couldn't speak.

Rachel slid her hands down her face.

If she couldn't speak, there was only one solution.

~S~R~S~R~

The first step was to create a name. Cute, but forgettable. Rachel chose the name: AnyMouseCanSpeak789 at outlook dot com

She opened a box for a new email.

"Sometimes things are hard to understand." She began. She paused. Looking out the window of the library, she followed a biker's path down the sidewalk. She watched him till he was gone; then watched the spot where he had been. She turned back to her screen. "I don't want you to know who I am, because I don't want you to judge me for not understanding these things. I just wanted to write to you because I need to know if you're the kind of person you could talk about these things with. The kind of person who doesn't mind helping those who can't speak. Thank you for the time you've already spent reading this. Sincerely, AnyMouse"

Rachel slid her books into her bag, and zipped it closed. Double checking that she hadn't left anything behind by mistake, she started on the slow walk home.

~R~S~R~S~

Rachel wasn't expecting to get any reply, and she definitely wasn't expecting to get one so soon. She gasped and smiled, her body filling with warmth. Distracting energy buzzed through her veins as she read it:

"I'm glad that you've written to me. I hope you're not some spammer trying to sell me Egyptian pencils or something, because if you are, you are quite cruel to contact me at such a time. I too am struggling. I am the kind of person who wants to help. Please tell me more. Sincerely, Shelby"

Rachel was quite surprised at Ms. Corcoran's bold move. She had gotten her email from the school website, so it was a teacher's email, meaning in theory, any district official could look through it. Something quite awful must be happening in her life for her to reach out to a complete stranger like this. Rachel recognized the irony in that thought, but nevertheless, it seemed that Ms. Corcoran had a lot more to lose than she did. She began to type anyway...

~S~R~S~R~

Shelby's heart was pumping in a painful manner as she opened her laptop. Seated at her desk in her piano class, she couldn't help but cast a wary glance at Brittany. The girl was in the middle of laughing at one of Jesse's jokes, but even so, she caught Ms. Corcoran's gaze. Her head stilled to stare at her teacher, and she gave her a small smile. Ms. Corcoran couldn't help but feel that the girl was incredibly cute. Rattled, she quickly looked back at her computer screen. She knew it sounded crazy, but she couldn't help but believe that AnyMouse was her daughter. The way she had written, and the timing, it was all so familiar. Coincidence or not, Shelby was not in the frame of mind to ignore something like this, something that had the potential to turn out so cruel. She needed to _know._ Whatever it was, she needed to know.


End file.
